Page 33 of Grounded (May Hollow Trilogy #1)
Another storm had blown in Monday around noon and the hard rain hitting the roof told Beulah there would be no gardening done this afternoon. Even if you could stand the mud and wet plants, messing in a garden while it was still muddy could spread disease, she had always heard.
The rain had made her nap soundly and there had been no need for any pain pills. In fact, she had a notion to quit the stuff anyway, them being a magnet for dopeheads intent on a home invasion.
Annie had gone out to see what the garden looked like while Beulah made her way to the kitchen to look at the rain gauge positioned on the plank fence beyond the kitchen window.
Joe had already called and reported eight-tenths of an inch.
Evelyn said they got nearly nine-tenths.
They were all hungry for the rain after such a dry spell.
Reaching the sink, she held on to it and looked at the gauge. A good eight-tenths. She called Joe to report, and then Evelyn. It never ceased to amaze them how one farm might get a substantial amount of rain, while another connecting piece of land might only get a drop.
Annie came in the back door from inspecting the garden, looking mighty disappointed.
“You might be able to get in it tomorrow if we get sun and a little wind,” Beulah said.
“I was hoping to start canning beans tonight,” Annie answered, washing her hands out in the sink.
“That’s farm life. Everything around here depends on the weather, and we’re not in charge of that.”
Annie went back upstairs, and Beulah debated on another cup of coffee, even though it was midafternoon. Why not? she thought. She poured another cup and slowly moved to the back porch to enjoy her coffee outside, where the sun was finally making an appearance.
Finally, she decided there was no more putting off those exercises. Her therapist was coming this evening and she would ask Beulah if she had done her exercises, and Beulah didn’t want to tell her no. Sitting down on the side of her bed, she looked at the sheet and went through them one by one.
The phone rang when she was nearly done, but she was glad for the interruption.
“Camille got lost! Jake left to pick her up.” Evelyn sounded exasperated.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. His directions were clear as a bell, but when she got off the interstate, somehow she took a wrong road and ended up in Renfro Valley. She called Jake, and he tried to talk her through the directions, but she was tired and upset, so he said he would go and get her.”
“Bless her heart,” Beulah said.
“Now they’ll have to see if they can find a place to leave her car over in Mount Vernon, or maybe she’ll follow him here.”
“Well, I’ll be,” Beulah said. “Can we do anything to help?”
“No, I just thought I’d let you know.”
After her exercises, Beulah turned on the five o’ clock news, a habit she was quickly falling into, since there was little else she could do during the day.
“There is late-breaking news coming from Lincoln County, south of Lexington.”
Beulah leaned forward.
Could it be Jake and Camille, a wreck maybe? She prayed that whatever it was, it was no one she knew. But was that right to pray for? Whoever it might be was loved by someone. Finally, the anchor came back on to fill in the details.
“Several people were arrested in a drug ring this morning in the Poplar Grove community of Lincoln County.” The camera spanned over to a group of men and women in handcuffs, herded into the state police vans like livestock.
“They are charged with making and distributing methamphetamine, a highly addictive drug. Meth is known to be flammable and dangerous while being made. There have been three explosions in the state of Kentucky alone this past spring from meth laboratories.”
The camera showed the inside of the house, where pots and pans were set about to make the drug.
“Two children were removed from the scene by police with potential burns from the chemicals. Chemicals used to make meth are household items, but when combined they make a drug that is so powerful, a onetime user can become an addict.”
The camera showed the outside of the house. Beulah didn’t recognize the site, but Poplar Grove was clear on the other side of the county.
“Drug makers attempt to hide their activities by covering the windows.” A close shot of a window showed a sheet draped in front of it. “Kentuckians should report any suspicious activity to the state police. From Lincoln County, this is Buzz Adcock reporting live.”
“Thanks, Buzz. In Bourbon County today, a freak accident left a man hanging upside down in his car from a tree. The man was released without serious injury, and a crane is now attempting to dislodge the car.”
“In national news, a missing persons report out of Chicago shows …” Beulah clicked off the television and stared unseeing at the gray screen, her mind racing.
Stella Hawkins had covered the windows of the stone house. Could she be involved in something so terrible as making drugs? Beulah hated to even think such a thing of another human being, but she hadn’t fallen off the turnip truck yesterday.
With her walker, she hobbled over to the phone number list stuck between two out-of-date phone books and searched for Jeb Harris. He had given her his number a year ago and told her to call if she ever had need. What would be the harm of asking the young detective simply to drive by?
Trying not to sound overly concerned, she told him about the blankets over the windows and the electronic eye at the bridge that let Stella know who was coming in or going out.
Jeb was such a nice boy, he said he would drive by this afternoon and check it out.
She felt better now, knowing it was in the hands of the police.
“Who was that?” Annie asked, coming into the room dressed in shorts and sneakers.
Beulah told Annie about the news story and her conversation with the detective.
“Did he seem concerned?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s hard to tell with people like that who are used to dealing with so much. He said he would check on it.”
“I’m glad you called.” Annie stood on one foot and bent the other leg back behind her—stretching, she called it. “I’ll take another look around tomorrow.”
“Well, don’t go snooping around. Let the police handle it.”
“I want to see the old cemetery anyway. I haven’t been there since I’ve been home. And then, I hope it will be dry enough to pick beans,” Annie said.
“Don’t forget the groceries. I’m nearly out of butter.”
“I’m headed there now,” Annie said, gathering up her purse.